Will You Teach Me… ?
Mommy and Daddy Fraser have left River Run, but the least I can say is that Brianna in on fire! What better way than a booster shot of happiness to fall a little more for her dear husband hahahaha. Plus, Stephen is full of surprises... when you think he's at his peak, he always manages to do better. You'll discover how right now…
Thanks Rath101 and AngelinaGaye for the reviews, as well as Christa McGinn for hitting the follow/fav button!
Rath101: ahahah I love your comments, they always make smile and laugh! To be honest, I couldn't make Jamie and Stephen just roll in the dirt and punching each other, cuz Stephen doesn't want to hurt Bree again and the Frasers know very well that Bree's situation would only get worse if they misbehave and they don't want that. But yeah, it would have been extremely funny to watch! Also, Stephen really is on the path of redemption and this chapteris just another proof of that. I know you're gonna love it. Hehehehe
AngelinaGaye: hmmm my best advice for writing fanfiction would be to start with thinking about an ending. Never start writing a fic if you don't know how to end it. And once you have your ending, plan the story entirely (plot, twists, important events, chronology, character development). That will avoid any inconsistencies and errors. And then make a brief (physical and psychological) description of every character, especially if your characters are original characters or if their behavior differs from canon. As for my favorite fanfiction ever, there are 3: the first two are French Dramione fics by the talented IACB "Trash Polaroid" and "Le Contrat", and the third one is also a French Dramione "My Dear Sadistic Highness", by Madelight. These are truly masterpieces. Thanks for your comment and I don't say I hope you will enjoy this chapter, because I know you will ahahahah. It's so fucking cute. Enjoy!
oOo
23. Lover's Pond
July 15th 1774.
The general atmosphere had greatly improved since the Frasers' visit two months earlier, and while Brianna had not made any progress in her search for evidence, she had won a few personal battles. After four days of complete bliss, she had fully exploited her happy mood and newfound energy to take her perfect wife act even further. Stephen flirted more and more openly with her and the sweet little things he had started doing after Murtagh's death had now become daily habits. And even when was away for several days, Brianna and Jeremiah had been allowed to continue their walks around Cross Creek in peace, with Hennessy or one of Bonnet's henchmen escorting them from a distance. The range of her freedoms widened a little bit more every day, as Stephen's trust in her and in their relationship grew. And Brianna did her best to keep it that way.
Soon, however, it was not Stephen who put an end to his wife and son's strolls, but the climate itself. The heat had been scorching for several days and Brianna had run out of ideas to keep Jemmy inside the house. Life itself had stopped in River Run: the grooms had taken their horses up the hills, in stables carved into the rock to protect them from the fire that was literally falling from the sky. The farmers were patiently waiting for the sun to do its work on the plantations. The house staff provided minimum service, keeping the house in the dark all day long and favoring cold meals. Everyone was worn out by the heat wave that had hit North Carolina. Everyone except Jeremiah, who did not seem to suffer as much as the adults from the extreme temperatures. On the contrary, it had only made him more curious about the pond in the back of the garden. The water level had somewhat declined but it was still wide and deep enough to tempt anyone to take a dip.
That morning was no exception and when Brianna came into the kitchen to help Phaedre with the boy's breakfast, she found the young maid – a spoon of pudding in her hand – trying to convince Jemmy to get down from the chair he was standing on. The boy was pouting, his eyes stubbornly staring at the peaceful green and blue waters visible through the window. Brianna sighed and the child turned to her with an accusing look on his face.
"I want to go play in the water!"
"Jem…", his mother began wearily. "We already talked about it, you can't swim…"
"Yes, I can!", Jeremiah instantly yelled, stomping on the seat of the chair. Below, Phaedre put her spoon back in the pudding that the child had barely touched and breathed a long sigh. The same scene had happened almost every morning since the beginning of the summer, and despite being very fond of Jeremiah, her patience had limits. Brianna walked over them and stood in front of her son, raising one sarcastic eyebrow.
"Splashing around in the bathtub isn't swimming. And I'm not familiar with this pond. It could be deep and dangerous…"
She knew full well that there were no hidden dangers in the pond. When she had lived with Jocasta for several months during her pregnancy and after her delivery, she had often seen the slaves coming to bathe at the end of their working day on a small natural beach, near the wooden pontoon. The water was shallow on a few dozen yards and there had never been any accident, even when they came with children. But sometimes a water snake slithered around – she hated snakes – and there was also a significant risk of sunstroke in this heat. She had therefore hoped that Jeremiah's obsession with the pond would eventually pass, but as a matter of fact, he seemed every day a little more frustrated than the day before. And it was precisely this growing frustration that prompted the child to play a card that Brianna hated more than any other.
"FINE! I'll ask daddy, then!"
Before his mother or Phaedre could stop him, Jeremiah jumped to the kitchen floor and scampered off in the house looking for Stephen.
"Jemmy, come back here!", Brianna called, rushing after him.
But all she heard in response was the noise of his little shoes running on the stone floor, and then Stephen's voice in the entrance hall. "Where are you running off to, lad?"
"I wanna play in the pond, but Mama won't let me!", Jeremiah whined, squeezing Stephen's neck in his little arms. Bree instantly glared at her son but his nose was buried in the scarf around the pirate's neck and he did not see her. However, his father's reaction was not what he expected. Instead of immediately giving him what he wanted, Stephen's face fell and he frowned.
"The... the pond? Absolutely not."
Jeremiah pulled away from Stephen and stared at him as if his father had betrayed him. Daddy always said yes, which was precisely the reason why he had asked him to begin with! This change of situation did not please him at all and the boy began to fidget in his arms, until Stephen put him down. No sooner had he touched the ground than he began to stomp.
"But whyyyyyy?"
Stephen tensed and Brianna instantly knew he was projecting his own phobia onto Jemmy.
"It's too dangerous. And I forbid you to go anywhere near it."
The tone he used was so threatening that the child turned pale and his eyes immediately filled with tears. Daddy had never spoken to him like that. But if there was one thing Jeremiah could not stand, it was being treated like a baby and being forbidden things without a good reason (by his own standards). And in those moments, he felt the need to rebel.
"I will go alone, then!"
Bonnet's eyes widened and his jaw clenched; he seemed on the verge of losing his temper. As for Jeremiah, his obstinate look boded no good and Brianna quickly weighed the pros and cons: her son would find a way to go to the pond whether they wanted it or not. Was it better to keep refusing and take the risk that he would sneak out and drown, or to teach him how to swim and thus minimize the danger if he ever tried to go and swim alone? The second option, definitely.
"All right, I'll teach you how to swim…", Brianna surrendered with a sigh and as Jeremiah turned a victorious face toward her – while Stephen stared at her as if she had just gone mad – she waved her index finger at her son. "But you do not go to the pond on your own. Always go with an adult and you will do what you are told! If you disobey, I swear you will be grounded until the end of the summer..."
"Can we go now?" Jeremiah yelled, jumping up and down on the marble floor.
"Darlin', I'm not sure this is a good idea…" Despite the polite phrasing, the Irishman's tone betrayed his nervousness.
"Go get some old breeches that you don't wear anymore, come back and wait for me here in the hall…", Brianna told the child who scampered up the stairs, screaming with joy. "And I said in the hall! Not by the pond!"
An exasperated "Yes, Mama" came from the upper floor and she rolled her eyes as she approached Stephen, who was chewing on his left thumbnail, his other arm across his abdomen.
"Don't worry, everything will be fine..."
"I don't like the idea of him goin' anywhere near water…", he growled, as she forced him to lower his hand and stop torturing his fingernails.
"I know... but I also know that his obsession with the pond will not magically go away. And what do you prefer? A child who falls into the water but can swim back to the shore or a child who just sinks like a stone?"
Stephen's dark gaze spoke volumes, and Brianna smiled reassuringly.
"Don't worry… I was about Jeremiah's age when Frank taught me to swim. And it wasn't in a pond, but on the beaches of Cape Cod... Yes, right in the Atlantic. At least here, Jeremiah won't get knocked over by the waves…"
Loud footsteps echoed in the hallway, as if a herd of elephants was running down the stairs instead of one single four-year-old boy.
"I'm ready!", Jemmy trumpeted, his feet bare and wearing tight-fitting breeches as well as a small half-sleeved blouse.
"You definitely take more time to change when you have to go to bed...", Brianna scolded, following the child outside.
Stephen watched them go, his chest tightening with fear. He had a few accounts to keep in his office—just enough to keep him busy for an hour or two—but he doubted he could focus on anything with Jeremiah near the pond. And indeed – once in front of his open ledgers, clumsily holding his quill between his fingers – he had to admit his defeat. Writing still required a lot of mental effort from him, despite now having two or three years of experience – an effort that he obviously could not make at the moment. With an exasperated grunt, he put his useless quill down next to the inkwell and started to walk around his office like a caged lion. The room did not overlook the back of the estate, and he could not even watch his wife and son from afar.
After twenty minutes of self-torture, he could not stand it any longer and left his office, mentally preparing himself to face the heat. Mother and son were both several yards from the shore – Brianna standing chest-deep in the water and Jeremiah lying on his back on the surface, struggling to hold position.
"...that way if you're too far from the shore or if you're too tired to swim, floating like this will allow you to save your strength...", Brianna explained, as Stephen walked silently on the pontoon. A heap of fabric lay on the wooden planks and he recognized his wife's dress, as she had only kept her bodice and smallest petticoat on.
"Hey, daddy? Look at me, I'm floating!", Jeremiah yelled, raising his head which caused him to stop floating. Brianna placed one hand under his body to support him and he started to kick around like a puppy to stay afloat. Turning her head toward Stephen, she suppressed a smirk at the sight of Stephen's worried face.
"Do you want to see me jump?", the boy went on.
"Is that really wise?", Stephen winced, but the child ignored him and continued to "swim" with Brianna's help until his feet touched the sand again. Jeremiah ran up the small beach and walked to the middle of the pontoon, not even noticing that his father wasn't looking at him anymore. His green eyes were staring at Brianna who had gradually come out of the water, that was now only reaching her thighs. Her white bodice and petticoat were drenched, hugging her body perfectly. Stephen's gaze changed from preoccupied to lustful, and the tip of his tongue lingered for a moment on his lower lip as his eyes unconsciously followed a few droplets of water sliding down from Brianna's collarbone to her cleavage. Despite her best efforts, it was nearly impossible for Bree to ignore the fire burning in her husband's irises and she felt her cheeks blush.
"Hey, daddy, you looking at me?"
Stephen's eyelids fluttered and he turned his attention back to his son, nodding. "Of course, I only have eyes for you, son…", he lied and Brianna raised a cocky eyebrow.
Puffing out his cheeks, Jeremiah pinched his nose with one hand, bent the knees, posed his behind backward and his chest forward, before jumping into the water with all the strength of his small legs. There was a loud 'splash', a few ripples under the surface, then after a few seconds the child's head emerged again and he took a deep, loud breath as if he had just set a new world diving record. With his eyes still closed to keep the water out and his feet kicking frantically below the surface, he cried out, "Did you see me, Daddy? Did you see me?"
Brianna took him in her arms so he could rub and open his eyes.
"I don't think I've ever seen anyone dive so gracefully. Well done, son", Stephen said sarcastically, but the child took it as a compliment and smiled brightly.
Brianna tightened her grip around him and carried him to the shore. "Come on, that's enough for today. You need another bath, but this time in the tub and with a lot of soap. You smell like dead fish…", she said before sniffing her own shoulder, "… and so do I."
Jeremiah began to protest and fidgeted, but as soon as he was within reach, Stephen snatched him from Bree's arms and flew him into the air, causing the child to scream with joy.
"Oh, look at that great catch! A big plump roach!", the Irishman laughed.
Behind them, Brianna was picking up their clothes and smiling fondly. She had not even realized it: her lips had stretched on their own at the sight of her son being lifted off the ground in his father's arms. Until she felt Stephen's eyes staring at her with that soft yet triumphant look he had when he saw her relaxed. And happy. Really happy.
Bree's smile fell slightly, but Stephen had already turned away and Brianna cursed herself for letting reality overtake fiction. Pretending to be happy was one thing, but enjoying a single moment spent with him was another story. A single one? Who are you kidding, Bree? She could not deny it: since they had both tried to warn the Regulators, a new bond had been forged between them; a strange sense of complicity and trust that she had never felt towards him before. But one good deed did not make up for all the evil he had done. Stephen Bonnet still was a criminal who had abused her many times without ever repenting, and nothing he could do or say would fix that, right? Enjoying his company – while she was basically his prisoner – meant absolutely nothing.
After a well-deserved scrub, Jeremiah had spent the rest of the day playing in the living room, allowing Brianna to retreat in their bedroom with a cup of sweet red clover tea Stephen had brought to her on a tray. The heat had become stifling in the middle of the afternoon and until nightfall, when a pleasant onshore breeze had finally rustled up to bring down the ambient humidity and temperature. This was Brianna's favorite moment. Every evening after the sun had gone down and Jeremiah was in bed, she ventured into the gardens to breathe in the fresh air and the scent of warm land and grass. Stephen rarely followed her, for he knew these peaceful moments were important for her sanity. She was therefore quite surprised when – on her way back to the house – she spotted his tall figure on the pontoon. He was turning his back on her and had his hands in his pockets, gazing at the unfathomable depths of the pond and the silver glint of the full moon that reflected on it.
Brianna could have pretended not to see him and gone home without interacting with him, but her feet unwittingly led her to the pontoon that creaked under her weight, tearing the Irishman out of his thoughts. He looked over his shoulder, just enough to identify her and smiled softly, before turning his attention back to the pond.
"You hate that, don't you?", Brianna asked, stepping towards him. "Watching Jeremiah play in the water…"
Stephen let out a brief and nervous laugh, crossing his arms over his chest. "To be honest, darlin', I was considerin' dryin' up the whole damned thing…"
Brianna stared at him in horror and was about to protest when her husband's smirk told her he was joking.
"You're hilarious…", she grumbled, rolling her eyes. He laughed again and she was about to leave him alone with his bad sense of humor when he spoke again, more seriously this time.
"I don't like it... but I also don't want him to be afraid of water because of me."
"I could teach you both to swim at the same time…?", Brianna offered, with a sarcastic smile. The very idea of having one of the most dangerous pirates in the Atlantic scared to death in five feet of water was delightful. "If a four-year-old can do it, you should be fine."
"The four-year-old has one major advantage, darlin': he is not distracted by the sight of your body and the thousands of droplets that beautify it. As if you were covered in small shiny diamonds."
Bree looked up into Stephen's eyes. He was staring at her quietly, narrowing his eyes, and a half-smile floating on his lips. No sarcasm, just tenderness and a palpable interest in her reaction. Time seemed to stop for a moment, and it was when she suddenly heard the deafening sound of crickets and other nocturnal insects that Brianna realized she was holding her breath. Stephen had complimented her so naturally that she was not sure if that was pure flattery or if he actually meant it. But his burning gaze – when he had seen her come out of the water in the morning – led her to the second option.
Stephen was enjoying the confusion he had managed to stir up in his wife's mind and perhaps even in her heart. A heart that was now racing but Brianna had no idea who or what to blame for this phenomenon: perhaps the atmosphere of this summer evening – the chirping of crickets, Stephen's eyes shining in the moonlight, the pleasant breeze on her skin – had turned his comment into something more romantic than it actually was. Or perhaps she was just caught off guard.
The longer they stared, the more Stephen felt his desire for her overwhelm him, but before letting his passion run wild, he had something to tell her. Something that could not wait until tomorrow. Brianna knew before he even opened his mouth that he was about to say something important. She had sensed it, barely a second before his voice – sweet and reassuring – rose in the night.
"It's been one year today."
Brianna frowned. "One… year?"
Stephen did not need to explain. The frown was soon replaced by a surprised, then gloomy expression. It's July 15th…, Brianna realized, her chest tightening. They had been married and living in River Run for one year. One year of forced cohabitation, sick games and not always consensual sex. One aborted pregnancy, a couple of depressions, gallons of tears shed... But also more recently, some peaceful moments, gentleness and progress in her research. One year without Roger, without waking up in her bed at Fraser's Ridge, without happy moments with Marsali, Fergus and the kids. But also a lot of time spent with the son that she had almost lost, and with an actual father to take care of him. The outcome of these twelve months was not entirely positive, but it wasn't entirely negative either. There had been good and bad times – sometimes very bad – but she had always come out stronger, improving her daily life one step at a time.
"I know you didn't want any of this…", Stephen continued, startling her. He had turned to her silently and was now cupping her cheek with one hand. "…I know that the things I've done to get you back were incredibly violent to you…"
No kidding…, Bree grumbled internally, but her heart was not in it. Stephen's warm hand on her face and his hypnotic eyes – staring at her like a man admires a priceless work of art he's proud to own – had more importance than her own sarcasm.
"…but I have no regrets."
Bree's lower lip quivered at the words, and Stephen's thumb immediately came to rest on it in appeasement. His words might be violent, but the intention was not, and just as she had sensed that he was going to speak a little earlier, she knew that he would explain.
"Havin' you and Jemmy here with me... It is the most beautiful thing I've ever experienced. How could I regret any of this when I felt better in a year than in a lifetime before that…"
"I wish I could say the same…", Brianna muttered. Stephen's selfishness did not really surprise her anymore, nor did the fact that he totally denied her trauma. But a little wake-up call could not hurt him. Stephen staggered under the blow, inhaled and exhaled, looking a bit tense as his hand left her cheek.
"I wish some things had gone differently, though… Like MacKenzie's visit to begin with…", he said and Bree nodded, expecting him to list each and every one of his mistakes since their marriage. "…and the way we met too."
The young woman stiffened defensively. Stephen never broached up the subject of the rape, as it questioned his entire defense in Court and shattered his delusions about their current relationship. But tonight, on their first wedding anniversary, he felt ready to lance the boil.
"I wish the circumstances had been different…"
"Oh, you mean you'd rather rape me on your ship instead of an inn? I didn't mind being on land, to be honest. I get seasick easily…"
Stephen cringed at her dark, accusing look, and Brianna could see he was doing his best to keep calm and finish his speech.
"I meant… if I had been a respectable man the day our paths crossed."
"A respectable man…", Bree sneered bitterly. "Interesting... Please, tell me what you would have done, if you had been 'respectable'. Because I've spent months – no, years – imagining all the ways this day could have turned out, and you weren't a gentleman in any of them…"
There was a silence between them and the Irishman lowered his head, staring obstinately at his feet. Brianna waited for him to react, but since he was not moving, she assumed he did not know what to answer, and she shook her head before turning away. But Stephen's right hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her gently towards him.
"I would have met you during one of your aunt's fancy dinners…", he whispered, his eyes still glued to the floor. "I would have courted you and showered you with gifts. I would have listened to you talk about this and that, for the pure joy of hearin' your voice or your laughter…"
Taken aback, Brianna slowly turned to stare at him – his sheepish expression, his furrowed brow and his slightly watery eyes.
"When appropriate, I would have asked your father for your hand. We would have gotten engaged, and then married – in a church this time and not in a small, dark office…"
Brianna closed her eyes. She did not need to be told in detail about an idyll she would never experience. The past was the past, and if there was one thing she had learned in four years, it was that brooding over things that could have been, brought absolutely nothing except unhappiness. She was about to tell Stephen to shut up, when he slid his hands around her hips, sensually squeezing the fabric and the skin underneath.
"I would have deflowered you in our bed, on our wedding night… admired your rosy cheeks at the thought of me seein' you naked for the first time…"
Brianna felt her throat tighten. Not only had her first time with Roger ended in a very humiliating way, but her first time with Stephen, a few hours later, had broken her forever. She would have given anything for a different experience, without any violence, any argument, disappointment or trauma. An experience such as the one Stephen had just described… but which had been definitely stolen from her. Don't, she moaned, but only in her mind, because no sound escaped her mouth.
"I would have held your hand when Jeremiah was born…and I would have held his later to help him take his first steps."
Bree shook her head, her chin trembling and her eyes filled with tears. "That's enough…", she managed to whisper, but Stephen ignored her.
"I would have given you the life you deserve and we could have been happy four years earlier…"
"I said enough!" Pushing away Stephen's hands, she faced him again, her eyes bright with anger and pain. "Your words are vain. You can't change what you did by imagining what you could have done! Rewriting history and denying what really happened… all of that is easy! You know what is hard, though? To apologize! To face reality!" With these words, she sank her index finger hard into Stephen's chest, who took a step back in surprise. "To take responsibility!" Another tap of the finger. "And find a way to fix the shit you did instead of pretending it never happened!"
Stephen blinked stupidly, and his face darkened as he saw a first tear roll down his wife's cheek. He had wanted to celebrate their first anniversary with a few sweet words, and now she was getting angry again. Was there a single special occasion in his life that he would not ruin? How could everything about Brianna get out of hand so quickly? It was inexplicable.
"I did find a way, darlin'... I gave you this life...", he tried, waving at the house.
Brianna's eyes widened. "Did it ever occur to you that I didn't want it?" Stephen's silence was a sufficient answer, and she went on: "It didn't, right? Once again, you only did what you needed to do. I never mattered to you. Everything you do, you always do it for yourself, and yourself alone."
"I disagree… you and Jeremiah mean the world to me", he muttered, still stung by the young woman's analysis.
"We do mean the world to you, now…" Brianna sniffled miserably, before looking up into the Irishman's green eyes. "But we did not when you came up with this plan to take River Run… Not back then."
Stephen thought for a few seconds and the guilt he suddenly felt must have shown on his face, because Brianna nodded slowly, as if his reaction confirmed her words.
"You broke me, Stephen. First by raping me in this tavern… and a second time by taking everything I had managed to rebuild afterwards. I don't even know if I will one day be able to put all the pieces of me back together... but one thing is certain: it is not by dangling alternate versions of our story before me that you can mend what you broke."
Silence fell between them, and the night breeze rustled the high reeds along the shore.
"How, then?", he blurted out, his voice hoarse.
"You know how...", Brianna sniffled, but despite the sobs forming an increasingly painful lump in her throat, she held on. "At least, you know where to start…"
For a second, Stephen's snake eyes shifted on one side, like every time he was thinking about a way out of a sticky situation. Bree clenched her fists but still tried to keep calm. She had to give him a chance.
"I'm sorry."
He had spoken quickly, in a neutral tone, as if he had just apologized for bumping into a passer-by on the sidewalk. Brianna decided to react quickly, too, and a second later, a loud slap left a stinging feeling on his left cheek.
"What the Hell, woman? I said I was sorry!", he barked, raising his left arm to protect the left side of his face. In response, Bree's other hand landed on the unprotected cheek and Stephen groaned angrily.
"I'm not convinced", she retorted, enjoying the sight of him floundering in his own apology. An apology she had been waiting for, hoping for, for months but it had never come, despite them living under the same roof.
"I wish to sincerely apologize to you, then!" The pirate's tone was a tad annoyed, and it earned him another pair of slaps – on one ear and shoulder. "By Danu... Brianna, I am sorry!"
She hit the top of his skull and then kicked his shin with all her might. Stephen was about to get really angry when a sniffle and a barely audible sob escaped his young wife's mouth, and his anger died down immediately. He averted two more blows, while begging for her forgiveness, then managed to pull her toward him and hug her tiny frame against his chest.
"Forgive me…", he whispered again. Brianna's movements slowed down as her back started to shake under his hands. She was still trying to hit him, but with less determination, and more out of reflex than to actually hurt him. "Forgive me, mo fhíorghra…"
Very quickly, Brianna stopped fidgeting and let herself be lulled by the sound of his voice, tirelessly repeating his litany of apologies with ever more tenderness and sincerity. Until he finally shut up and simply enjoyed the warmth of Bree's body against his.
When the young woman stepped back slightly to stare at him, he noted that no more tears were running down her wet cheeks and he smiled encouragingly. A shy hand came to caress the scar on his cheek, tracing the line from his cheekbone to the corner of his lips. He saw her eyes linger for a few seconds on his mouth before moving up his face. She was so beautiful when she cried. He would have gladly contemplated her for hours if he did not feel so guilty for being the cause of her tears.
The moonlight – which until then had been half-hidden by heavy clouds – enlightened Stephen's features, his thin lips, his worried pout, his eyes analyzing hers… And she couldn't help but stare, soon matching the rhythm of her breathing to his own. Imperceptibly craning her neck to bring their almost motionless faces closer together. So much so that when a slightly stronger gust of wind lifted her hair and made her shiver, they both came out of their weird trance with a start.
"Let's go back home before you catch a cold…", Stephen muttered embarrassedly, before turning away. But Brianna did not follow him. She even took the opposite direction, toward the dark waters of the pond a few feet behind them. She had absolutely no idea what she was doing. All she knew was that hearing that first apology had been a relief. Like a huge weight had just been lifted off her shoulders. Of course, Stephen was far from being forgiven, but hearing these words allowed her to get some closure and move a little further on the road to recovery. Not to mention that he had seemed sincere, for once. She knew very few words in Irish Gaelic – and all of them were alcohol and/or St.-Patrick-related – but what he had said sounded unmistakably like one of the Scottish words that Jamie whispered to Claire when they thought they were alone: fìor ghaol, in other words "my love". My true love, even, if translated literally.
When Stephen turned around, realizing that she had not followed suit, his heart skipped a beat. Despite the moon that was once again partially hidden by a cloud, he could clearly make out Brianna's silhouette in the freshly mown grass near the shore. Her arms behind her back, she was slowly untying her dress and before Stephen understood what was happening, a bundle of fabric fell limply around her legs. Then another one: the petticoat. She was now working on her bodice when he came to his senses and trotted down to the pond.
"What are you doing?", he asked, glancing hesitantly at the house, but apart from an orange glow in a top-floor window, the whole building was shrouded in darkness. "It's a tad late to take a dip, don't you think?"
Brianna remained silent. Swimming was not part of her plan. Stephen's apology had done her a world of good, and not just because she needed it, but also because it proved the power she was gradually wielding over him. She had felt him vulnerable and sincere the whole time, and she could not let him close himself off again without trying to go even further. But above all, this apology was giving her the opportunity to regain control of her own body tonight, and to make peace with her traumas for good. As she slipped out of her bodice, exposing her bare breasts to the stunned pirate, she finally turned to him and without a word started undoing the top buttons of his waistcoat. The expression on Stephen's face was priceless: half-turned on, half-worried about her unusual behavior, he raised an eyebrow, and his eyes almost looked like they would pop out of their sockets.
"Brianna…", he whispered, struggling to hide his arousal. "What are you-?"
"I want you…", she blurted out, and Stephen blinked in surprise. "But not in this house you stole from my family. Or in this bed where you've taken me so many times without my full consent…" She slid his waistcoat down his arms and threw it on the other clothes in the grass, before her hands went down to his crotch and untied his breeches. "I want you here, in a place that isn't plagued by painful memories. Where you'll be able to give me that perfect wedding night you told me about earlier."
Against her fingers, she felt Stephen's cock harden with each word and when the fabric fell down his legs, liberating the impatient limb, he cupped Brianna's face in his hands. "I'll do anything…", he breathed against her lips.
A few seconds went by and Stephen finished taking his clothes off before gently laying Brianna down on their improvised mattress. He immediately buried his face in the crook of her neck, before leaving a trail of kisses down to her breasts – where he bit a nipple in the process – and her stomach. Stephen then reached her navel and let out a loud and satisfied sigh. As he continued his journey toward her crotch, his hands caressed every inch of flesh within reach – kneading her hips and buttocks, slightly scratching her thighs, and smiling when his touch made her shiver in the most delicious way.
Brianna's back arched slightly as Stephen's tongue lapped her entrance, first in large circles, then smaller ones. Each circle more precise, and more efficient than the previous one. After a year together, he knew exactly how to satisfy her – despite all the mental barriers she had raised to protect herself and never give in to pleasure. But she had stopped using them a while ago, much to his delight. And she would certainly not use them tonight.
Soon, Brianna's fingers started twitching around his blonde locks, pressing Stephen's head ever closer to her sex; it was time to speed things up. He did not need to be asked twice and his right hand immediately left Bree's thigh to slide under his own mouth and skillfully penetrate her. He made her come once like this, before going back up, his hands lingering on her lower abdomen and caressing it gently. Begging her womb to welcome the new life he wanted so bad to plant there. A final kiss on her navel and he sat up between his wife's thighs, admiring the curves of her body, the red halo of her hair around her face and her gorgeous mouth just waiting to be kissed. With infinite gentleness, he entered her, joining their pelvises and their lips simultaneously, and Brianna moaned, overwhelmed by his sweetness and thoughtfulness. He did know how to do it: respect his partner, pay attention to her needs and desires. And while this was quite good news, it only made the memory of the many times he had simply dismissed her consent more bitter.
Another thrust, another kiss. Brianna inhaled deeply as Stephen pushed deeper inside her, his breath tickling the sensitive skin of her neck. New sensations were taking hold of her and she only realized after a few minutes that for the very first time, the sex was consensual and even ardently desired. For the very first time, there was gentleness and respect.
For the very first time, Stephen and Brianna Bonnet were making love.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
…. I can see you ! I can see you fangirling right now! ahahahahah
SO: tell me everything! What did you think of this chapter? The adorable swimming lesson but also (and above all) Mister Stephen fucking Bonnet finally apologizing to Brianna! Twenty-three chapters! It took him twenty-three chapters and a whole year of living together for these words to finally escape his lips. It was about damn time, don't you think?
I can't wait to read your reactions to this important scene, but until then, note that the next chapter will be published on February 19th! Take care!
Xérès